


The Masquerade

by Takaska



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: "I don't even LIKE angst!" I shout as I write it, Necromancy, Other, birthing scene, chapter 3 contains a ritual, gender neutral reader, just implied c section, mentions of surgical incisions, not graphic, only if you havent read his route yet, spoilers perhaps?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-11 19:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takaska/pseuds/Takaska
Summary: You and Doctor Julian Devorak get caught by the guards.Nadia sentences you both to death.... It doesn't work.





	1. The Gallows

You failed.

You were trying to help him escape, and it backfired.

You saw fear in Julian’s eye, and you shouted, you told the guards to let him go, you tried to push between them, and then… 

You don’t remember learning this shockwave of magic, but it came from you all the same. A crack like lightning, and swirls of the dissipating magic lingering around you.

The guards, as well as Julian, were knocked back away from you and each other.

Collapsing to your knees, you saw a crowd slowly, cautiously, forming around. Bits of the walls hit by the blast crumbled slightly, nothing structure-breaking, but the dents were obvious, and ringed with gold at the edges.

The guards composed themselves quickly, and immediately apprehended you. 

Too fatigued, magic spent too quickly, you couldn’t put up the fight you just had.

You saw Julian’s eye wide with fear as he was shackled and then dragged away. One guard, Ludovico, you remembered, had demanded to know why you tried to obstruct them. Another slapped his hand away and placed a gag on you.

“The Countess will want to speak to the witch personally, I’m sure…”

And she did.

Nadia was briefed on the encounter before you were brought to her, and as composed as she was, her eyes were radiating pain and disbelief.

“... Did you, truly, try to aid in the murderous Doctor Devorak’s escape?”

She sounded so, _so_ much like she wanted it to be a misunderstanding. Her eyes begged you to deny it. Nadia wanted to trust you, so badly.

You nodded.

She turned away and called for your removal.

“Get this traitor of my sight. _Now!”_

You met Portia’s eyes, eyes that knew your fate would be the same as her brother’s now, and she moved towards you as if to speak, but you shook your head as Nadia called for her and demanded- you don’t know what. The doors slammed shut.

Tossed in a dungeon.

Fed only what was needed to survive until the late Count Lucio’s birthday.

“People of Vesuvia!” Countess Nadia herself proclaimed. “I have brought you not one- but _two-_ people who are in need of punishment. The heinous murderer, who lit my late husband, your beloved Count, on fire in his own bedchambers, _on his own birthday!”_

She gestured to her right, where two guards brought forth Julian, arms shackled behind his back, head hung low, expression hidden.

“And an accomplice. A well-known practitioner of magic, the one- regrettably- initially tasked with helping us to find my husband’s murderer,” her other arm came forward, and so did you.

As she continued her address to the crowd, you couldn’t help but notice she looked almost like her hands should carry platters, the way they were stretched to present you and Julian to the crowd of eagerly cheering onlookers. They may do so yet, she could choose not to hang you, and instead cut your heads off.

“... I promised the Masquerade this year. I promised an end to the painful knowledge that Count Lucio’s murderer roamed free among us. And here I stand, ready to provide you with both. Who shall go first? The apprentice who harbored him?”

As the guards forced you to your knees before them, cheers resounded from the crowd, but so did booing.

“No? The doctor himself, then?”

Julian grunted as he was shoved forward. Louder cheers, and less booing.

“Or, if you prefer,” Nadia smiled, finally lowering her arms, and nodding to either side of her as two gallows were pushed forth. “Together. Facing one another for a final look at where their choices ended them. What say you?”

Deafening cheers. If anyone booed, you couldn’t hear it.

“A wise decision!” Nadia clapped, rounding to step past the guards holding you and Julian hostage. She turned once more, and snapped her fingers at the guards, who turned you and Julian to her, still on your knees.

“You have both been found guilty of murder, assault, and treason. The long-suffering penalty, is death. If you have any final words, say them as you are taken to the gallows,” with a wave of her hand, Nadia’s guards pulled you and Julian up once more, and took you each to a noose. He finally looked up at you, and his face was resolute.

Until he saw yours.

As the nooses were placed around your necks, he called out hoarsely.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for dragging you into this. This should have been my punishment, and mine alone…”

You shake your head and call back.

“We don’t know if that’s true. I was determined to help you no matter what. If you go, then so do I. I love you.”

His eye glistens, and your own vision blurs for a moment.

“I love you, too.”

You see Nadia, face contorted with disgust, drop her arm like an axe.

The trap doors below you give way.

Portia cries out somewhere in the crowd, clear as day. Wordless, just a scream from the very depths of her chest, as if it was a beast that couldn’t be held back.

Countess Nadia’s face drops into an expression of devastation for just a moment before she puts her brave leader’s mask back on for the crowd.

“The Masquerade has begun!”

You failed.

Asra, Faust, Nadia. 

Failed Portia- _Pasha._

You failed Julian- _Ilya._

You had been waiting until it felt appropriate to ask if you could call them such things, but now would be your last chance.

You failed them all.

You and Julian take your last breaths as the crowd surges forward for the festivities.

Your souls are shepherded to the afterlife amidst a wave of cheers.

 

 

… Or, yours is.

When he’s cut down, the curse does it's macabre work.

He's not even sure it was ever meant to do this.

He plays dead as long as he can.

He sees an opportunity, and he steals your body away, into the night.

There will be a riot.

He won’t be here to see it, and he won't care.

You? You are already gone.

_“Unless I can bring you back,”_ he whispers.


	2. The Caravan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian is calling in some favors. He doesn't know why, but he's sure he's going to do whatever it takes.

_Your fault your fault your fault your fault your fault your-_

The night after the Masquerade, Julian’s thoughts followed the cadence of the horses’ hooves outside. He was alive. He didn’t want to be. Not when you…

His eyes shifted from the window to the bundle on the seat across from him in the caravan. He wasn’t able- or willing- to steal a coffin. He wrapped your body in unassuming blankets borrowed from Mazelinka- _oh_ how she was terrified when he’d stepped in the door, body in tow, and yet the old woman had been more than willing to help.

She prepared him food. She ensured the blankets wouldn’t slip. She pressed a pouch of herbs into his palm, and wished him luck. Mazelinka never asked what Julian intended to do with the body, but she knew Julian would be going away. Perhaps, genuinely, forever.

“Wherever ye show up, just try keepin’ outta trouble would ye?”

He had given her a wry smile. “I wouldn’t be me if I did.”

He called in a favor. Eboende, a thickset and heavily muscled man, held the reigns to the small caravan cart. He and his husband, Ethred, had been shocked to see Julian alive and- well, alive. They kept their promise and gathered you and he in the caravan, and Ethred waved from the doorstep.

Though the only option he could see, Julian felt the favor seemed too much to ask. All he had done was deliver a child.

 

_Back then, Julian had only just returned to Vesuvia. He’d traveled for a while outside the country, but something pulled him back. He helped whenever he could, and when word spread he continued to help._

_Something had gone wrong with Ethred, the midwife that was already in attendance needed help, and Eboende ran as fast as he could in midnight streets to find the doctor._

_Eboende- though about six or seven inches shorter than Julian, was far more muscular, and grabbed the doctor by his collar and marched off. The doctor struggled until he heard the only words he needed._

_“Husband needs help,” the words coated thickly in the way they only get when someone is terrified._

_Then Julian urged the man on, they ran even quicker back to Ethred and the young midwife- who was trying not to be in a full blown panic by the time they returned._

_Julian snapped into place, asking for blankets and water as he searched his pockets for- aha! A little bottle full of a thin, pale blue liquid._

_“Drink. It will ease the pain, though you may feel tired. Fight the tiredness, I’d like you to be aware of the situation,” he said, tipping the bottle into Ethred’s mouth._

_The man panted, turned his head towards his husband, and then nodded, swallowing the contents as Eboende sat behind him. Ethred’s head was placed on his large lap, thin hands grasped and brought to Eboende’s mouth for quite kisses as they both watched Julian begin leading the midwife through the procedure._

_Julian looked up and said “You may want to look away,” before pulling up Ethred’s shirt, scalpel in hand._

_Eboende closed his eyes and bowed his head over Ethred’s._

_It felt like an eternity as Julian worked, but when Eboende finally raised his eyes, it was because the baby was crying._

_The midwife had taken the child right away, to wash it and wrap it in clean blankets as Julian sewed Ethred back up. Julian finished quickly, and precisely, and as soon as he was done he backed away and nodded to the midwife as Ethred reached for the child._

_Julian swore he’d never forget their faces._

_Ethred’s eyes streamed tears he really didn’t have the energy to expend as he very gently kissed his child’s forehead. Eboende’s eyes were locked on his child’s living form- something he hadn’t been sure he would ever see. The midwife all but collapsed- she’d never had to do a surgery like Julian had just performed._

_The two proud fathers stared at their child in wonder for a long while, and Julian’s eye roved over the family. He had succeeded, with help of the midwife- who he thanked quietly as she prepared to leave._

_She shook her head and said “Not me you should thank, doctor._ I _should thank_ you. _Normally if something goes wrong, my mother helps, but she’s delivering twins…”_

_Julian smiled and said, “Oh! Would your mother happen to be Lydia?”_

_She nodded, and he continued, “That makes you Solaire, I presume? She’s spoken highly of you each time I’ve met her. Keep up the good work,”_

_Solaire smiled and called out to the couple, “I’ve got to let my mother know she should check in first thing tomorrow. Take care you two- er, three!”_

_Solaire’s speaking and sudden departure brought Ethred and Eboende back to the world, and they looked at the doctor with wonder and gratitude._

_“Thank ya, doctor. I was… well, right worried for meself, but for little Isaak more’n anythin else…” Ethred spoke, voice thick with exhaustion and an accent Julian didn’t have the time to place. Then, his eyes widened as he spoke again, “We… well, look around, doc, we ain’t got much. What d’we-?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_The couple blinked and looked between Julian and baby Isaak._

_“... what d’you mean ‘nothing?’” Eboende asked._

_Julian rose from his position on the floor near Ethred’s feet, and said “Nothing. You owe me nothing for this. I don’t help just to turn and extort people,”_

_The couple blinked at him, and Eboende said, “We don’t forget when someone helps us, doc. If y’ever need… t’escape the city again, I can help,”_

_Julian laughed and said, “I don’t know that I’ll ever_ need _it- and I assure you I don’t require any payment-”_

_Ethred’s gaze meeting his made him stop. He felt like the man, despite being as weak as he was, could see into his soul. As he spoke, his eyes fell back to his child._

_“Just a favor. Even if ya never collect it… Ya saved my life, and Isaak. It’d be wrong, not at least offerin…_ _”_

_So Julian swallowed, and smiled at the family. He was used to people offering favors- many he knew he’d never take, though he accepted them more for their peace of mind than his own. “An offer of a favor, then. I can accept that.”_

 

That had been months ago. The words haunted him now.

_‘Ya saved my life.’_

He mirthlessly snorted, quietly, eyeing the one he hadn’t.

Ethred’s favor was spent in taking him to the next one he had to ask.

The caravan was headed to a small village situated on the coast where it never seemed to see the sun. Maybe the reason was because of natural sea weather. Maybe it was because the people there did… questionable magical practices.

Eboende said he’d been to Yaren before, and the place gave him _‘the heebie-jeebies,’_ but he would drop Julian off just inside the village limits before going back home.

Julian didn’t know why he knew he had to go here. All he had was a very slight memory, and the name of who he had to seek out.

It wouldn’t be long before Julian would once again meet with Syllura.

She owed him a favor because-

His head burst with pain, and he pressed his palm to his forehead. He pressed two fingers on the spot where his skull connected to the spine. In moments the headache dissipated, but Julian was no better for it.

He still couldn’t remember what he had done for her.

 

_“Doctor Julian Devorak! My favorite ally!” Syllura had called over the clamor of a surprisingly busy tavern._

_“Syllura! I assume that means-?” before he can even hint to what he’d done, she shushes him and her face breaks into a cheshire grin._

_“All is well! I’ve made leaps and bounds in the past night alone! Drinks on me!” she called the last part loud enough for the whole bar to hear. Cheers rang out as she poured coins on the counter- the bartenders scooping them frantically into their aprons as she dragged Julian from his stool and into a booth._

_She rested her chin on her right palm, fingers curled to tap along her cheekbone. Her smile hadn’t dissipated in the least, she was giddier than anyone Julian had ever seen._

“You _have exceeded expectations. We can go over further details in private but, for now, payment is in order, no?” as she said ‘payment’ she dropped her hand from her chin and leaned forward, her mismatched eyes boring into Julian’s lone gaze._

_Sighing, Julian leaned away and turned his eye to the crowd, on the opposite side of the tavern from them._

_“You know I already said you’ve done en-”_

_“Tish! Tish, pish posh, nonsense, whatever you want to call it!” she cried out, eyes wide and her right hand- the one not made of porcelain- reached to squeeze his own._

_Eyes glimmering she continued, “Doctor, I will never be able to thank you enough. You must promise me, even if it’s not until years from now, if you have a patient you couldn’t save, come to me,”_

_His head tilted to the side and he had been about to ask her what she meant before…_

 

More pain, if he tried to think.

His missing memories frightened him, but this one had always been especially troubling.

The phrase _‘a patient you_ couldn’t _save’_ haunted him as much as her stormy green and pale yellow eyes did. Her left one, the one on the side of her porcelain hand, always seemed to somehow pierce him more than the green in that brief memory he had.

He wasn’t sure who Syllura was, what she did, or what she’d asked of him. He didn’t even know if she would still be in Yaren, or if she left.

He wasn’t sure she was even alive.

“I don’t know if she can help,” he whispered, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should have buried you, respectably, and _then_ left. But I don’t make very good choices do I? I keep screwing up everything, and even though you wanted to stay around me, I should have tried harder to keep you safe. Now, you’re… and I…”

He squeezed his eye shut and took in a huge, shaky breath.

Smell the flowers. Blow the bubbles. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

It was a few of those breaths before he could continue.

“Maybe it really _is_ a good thing I accepted those favors. Who knew one day I’d need to cash in the rewards for my past deeds, good or no, in order to undo the consequences of my most wicked one?” he mused, eye locked on where yours should be under the blankets.

Julian was used to corpses. He had seen hundreds by now, surely…

Surely just one shouldn’t bother him the way it does.

Tears threaten to fall, again, as Julian tore his eye away and searched outside for the moon. Almost full.

After a few more hours, the caravan crests a large hill, and Eboende calls back.

“Yaren’s just come to view! Be there by sunrise,”

“Thank you again, Eboende,” he responded, gaze stuck to the moon.

“Don’t mean t’ pry, but… ‘s waitin for ya here?”

“... I know a guy,”

Eboende grunted, satisfied- or, more likely, understanding that Julian’s business was his own, so if he wanted to be cryptic he had every right.

Julian remembered telling you, once, hardly a few days ago, _‘It’s important to have guys. People you can rely on.’_

He remembered saying you should have someone like that, and he knew even then it couldn’t be him. He had tried to end things that night, but you and the guards both found him the next day…

If Eboende heard him crying, the man was kind enough to stay quiet.

 

He carried you, trudging through the streets, to the tavern he remembered.

“Julian!” the barkeep called, a short, matronly woman in her sixties. “You ol' dog, welcome back! What've you got there?”

He felt himself wince as he replied, “Syllura. Where is she?”

His question was met with rapid blinking.

“She’s… well she oughtta be in her house? At the east end of the village?”

“Thank you,” Julian said, but as he turned, a small, firm hand grasped his elbow.

“She’s changed. Be careful. There are rumors…” the barkeep shook her head so furiously her grey curls looked like a stormcloud trying to relieve itself of rain. “Don’t be too obvious in looking for her, _please,”_

“Why?” he breathed, eyes glued to your covered form.

“I don’t know what you did for her while you were here, but… they say, shortly after you two had that argument… after you left, well…” she pulled closer, voice low and full of fear as she made sure no one heard her hissed words.

“They say she’s a necromancer.”


	3. The Brew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syllura the necromancer has just the ritual to bring you back.

A necromancer.

Of course.

Somehow, part of his subconscious knew, and had urged Julian back to Yaren. This part of him was eagerly whispering that surely, whatever he had done, had helped Syllura perfect her necromantic powers.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around that idea, however.

He trudged forward without thinking of whatever he may have done, why he had done it, without acknowledging anyone in the streets once he left the tavern.

Julian thought slowly as he walked to the edge of the village, your blanket-wrapped form clutched tight against him, drawing eyes your way.

_‘Necromancy is serious. Illegal. Hundreds of years ago it was decided no mortal, magician or no, had the right to interfere with death.’_

_‘But, you do that all the time, as a doctor, don’t you?’_ a part of him hissed. _‘You play the role of a deity every time you prescribe a tonic or take someone’s pain into yourself. If you really felt like no one should choose who lives and dies, you would never have become a doctor to begin with, would you?’_

The part of him that argued back, saying medicine was different, got more and more drowned out the closer Julian carried you to Syllura’s house. The now-feared woman lived at the edge of town, and though houses were clustered around her own, they were abandoned or at least empty. No one stuck close to Syllura, it seemed, though Julian thought she seemed nice enough from his memory of her.

He shook his head as the brightly-lit windows came to view.

He knew he couldn’t trust his memories. Not when so much was missing.

But he couldn’t stop himself from stepping up to Syllura’s door, and tapping it with his foot in lieu of his fist.

The part of him that was begging him to bring you back to Vesuvia crescendoed, screaming that you deserved to rest in peace, and be buried back home, or burned if that was your wish maybe he could ask Asra if-

All thoughts ceased as the worn green door opened.

Syllura’s mismatched gaze, though slightly tilted with confusion, raised to meet Julian’s good eye. Her lips, messily painted a bright red against her pale skin, cracked into a cheshire grin in recognition.

“Julian. You came back,” she said, then dropping her gaze to your covered form. Her eyes glimmered as she said, “And you’re taking me up on my offer after all, I see…”

She beckoned inside, not waiting for a response as she opened the door further and gestured with her porcelain hand- nails red as her lips- to a hallway.

With mechanical steps, Julian carried you down the somehow familiar hallway, and as he set foot into the lab at the end of the hall, he heard Syllura close the front door.

The lab was stark white. Almost sterile, Julian guessed. A table, an oven, sinks, cabinets, and drawers full of ingredients and medical equipment all greeted him and seemed to mock him as his figure reflected in their surfaces.

He knew that he couldn’t leave now. Whatever happened here was going to happen, and he just had to hope that it would be the right thing.

Gently, he laid you on the table as Syllura- pulling on rubber gloves reminiscent of Julian’s- caught up.

“It’s a surprise to see you again! I, ah… I thought after the fight…” she spoke, flitting around the room and grabbing scalpels and crystals and herbs. Arms full, she whirled back to him and her smile returned stronger than before, “But that’s in the past, obviously.”

Julian slowly began to undo the blankets, done up with care from Mazelinka. Just before he pulled them back to reveal your face, he spoke, not making eye contact.

“I don’t remember. Not the fight, not what I helped with. I just know I helped you and you promised if I had someone I couldn’t… couldn’t save… I had no other choice.”

Placing the ingredients on the table above your head, she quirked her head at him like a dog might, and pouted.

“You _forgot?_ How curious. Was it because you _wanted_ to, or you were _made_ to?”

“... I don’t know,” he whispered.

“Hmph. We’ll figure that out later. Show me, who is this patient?” she reached for the blankets, “A foreign nob-”

Julian’s hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist like a vice.

“... You will treat this person as if your failure to bring them back will ensure that you join them wherever they are,” he spoke quietly, firmly, eye not moving from you.

A beat of silence and he finally looked at her.

“Do you understand me, Syllura?”

Her eyes were wide, mouth agape, and then she grinned.

 _“That_ is not what I expected!” she laughed, pulling back her hand, “I like the fire! Show me, my dearest ally, who you have brought to my table this evening…”

Julian finally removed the blankets.

He looked at Syllura as her eyes widened, mouth forming a gentle ‘o’ as she reached out- glancing at Julian to be safe- and smoothed your hair.

“You have fine taste, Julian. And you’re smart to come to me. Body is still new, soul will still have a strong connection…” she focused her eyes on his and leaned closer, “You willing to help? Or do you want to wait until I’m finished?”

“I’m not leaving them,” he said, fists clenching the blankets. “They stuck with me in my darkest moments and I need to know what it is that you do to them,”

Syllura scoffed as she straightened and gathered her materials.

“It’s not like I do anything _vulgar_ Julian! I take the amaranth sprigs… the peach blossoms… and the nettle…” she picked up each bundle, undoing them and tossing them in a large mortar, holding it against her stomach with her porcelain hand and grinding the pestle with the other.

The side of her mouth quirked as she looked back up to Julian.

“I mash them, I boil them in fresh milk. Then I take those stones-” she nodded to the pieces of turquoise on the table, “I grind them down, I mix them into the brew. If you want to help, start on that, actually! You’ll need to grind all of them fine as you can,”

Julian gathered the stones- three turquoise pieces. Each about the size of an egg, he wasn’t sure where Syllura got them. Turquoise, though not the _rarest,_ usually came quite small in rings, necklaces, or earrings.

He still shuffled to the sink in the back, opening a cabinet underneath and retrieving a large metal tube, a metal rod, and a hammer from it’s surprisingly clean depths.

He took one stone, dropped it to the bottom of the tube, placed the rod inside, and bashed it with the hammer. He’d done this before, but it had been some time…

Crush the turquoise. Place it in a bowl. Crush the other two pieces, add them to the remnants of the first. Sift them into a different bowl. The bigger pieces get back in the metal tube, and re-crushed. Repeated for as long as needed until it’s all a fine powder.

By the time he’s done, Syllura has finished crushing the plants and placing them in a boiling pot. She’s lit green candles all around the room- not just the wax, but the flames as well. Julian knew the trick.

“Traces of copper in the wicks, hm? May I ask why?” he questioned as he handed the bowl of powder to Syllura.

“Julian, I thought you knew by now!” she exclaimed, slowly pouring the powder into the bubbling pot as she stirred it in. “Everything has symbology, and everything has magic! Everything used here- the turquoise, amaranth, peach blossoms, nettle- it all has to do with life! The color green is often associated with life, too, considering trees and other plants,”

She turned to wink at him as she took the brew off the stove to cool down. “Though I guess technically the flames don’t _need_ to be green so much as I like the way they look,”

Julian’s face was stoic, so she snorted and waved him away. “Go. I can do the rest on my own, go sit with your beloved. They’ll be fine soon,”

He winced.

His last words had been that he loves you.

Your last words had been the same, but… would they still ring true after this?

He sat heavily on a stool near your head. His gaze didn’t fully register your body, so much as it passed beyond you.

Syllura placed a thin cloth over a bowl, securing it in place with a rubber band, and placed it in the sink. She took the pot and gently poured it over the cloth so it caught anything not entirely liquidated.

Julian was as still as you were while she worked.

 _‘It isn’t you,’_ he thought, eye dropping to his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. _‘It isn’t you until I hear you speak and laugh. Until I feel your warmth. Not until I can hold you and tell you I love you again. I’ll show you- prove to you I’m worthy…’_

Syllura took the bowl, steaming slightly, and placed it by your head.

“You may not like this next part, but it’s important. We have to make a few incisions, and I have to trace the runes in the right places- that came out wrong,” she quickly added as Julian’s glare snapped to her face. “The runes won’t be the incisions. Those will be purely from my fingers. The incisions we need to make are over the heart, just under the navel, and at the joints of both wrists and ankles,”

He hated himself as he asked, “Why?”

“We fill the incisions with the brew. Whatever is left over has to be poured down the throat,” she answered, as if that wasn’t a horrifying concept.

Julian’s jaw clenched and unclenched rapidly as Syllura retrieved a scalpel.

“How many?” he finally asked, voice hoarse.

“Hmm?”

“How many people? How many have been brought back?”

“Seven. All lowkey events. Mostly children brought by grieving parents. I’ve also brought back a few prized cattle. Why?” she finally looked him in the eye and quirked her head to the side again.

“The barkeep. Lana? She seemed frightened of you. Seemed like everyone was. How have you brought so many back, when people don’t like to even be near your home?”

“Hypocrites judge what you do until they see how it can benefit them,” she shrugged. “It also doesn’t help that only two of the people I brought back are still here, in town. They’ve been healthy, but people worry about the people who traveled here for it, and left right away. They think I’m hiding something- and I only am if someone comes looking to arrest me, honestly,”

Syllura’s golden eye flared to life as she traced patterns on your skin, using the tips of the first two fingers on the porcelain hand. On your forehead, neck, above your heart, down your arms and torso and legs. Julian was silent as he watched her, and the idea that maybe he would see you alive again trickled into his head.

He realized it was the first proper, solid thought that he could grasp onto since he entered Syllura’s home.

She finished at your feet, and nodded as her eye’s glow dimmed.

“Everyone has someone they would kill for. Die for. Someone they never want to lose. Everyone also has _morals,”_ she said, the last word coming out mockingly. “Some people’s morals say that when their beloved passes on, they should never be able to see them again,”

She picked up the scalpel, and offered it to Julian.

Her eyes gleamed with fierce glee as she asked him one question.

“What is it that your morals say to you, Doctor Devorak?”

He looked from one eye to the other, to you, and to the scalpel again.

Syllura smiled as he picked up the scalpel and stood his full height for the first time in days, walking to you.

“My morals say this is wrong,”

Her face fell.

“My heart tells me _‘fuck morality.’_ I’m listening to that, I think,” he whispered, as he gently cut inch-long incisions on your skin. Syllura giggled, prancing to grab a rubber syringe to fill it with the slightly thickened brew.

Julian moved efficiently, and as he cut, she squeezed the contents of the syringe inside.

Once every cut was made and filled, he put the scalpel down and turned fully towards Syllura. Determination flared in his eyes as she poured the rest of the brew down your throat.

She turned to him and smiled.

“See? Not so bad huh? You can te-”

“Whatever you need to do now, do it,” he demanded. “We’re far beyond the point of no return, and I am not leaving alone.”

She smiled and raised her hands, focusing on your form.

“It takes a lot of magic, Julian. Stand by the door, if you would,”

He backed up until he was pressed against the door, and nodded at her while his eye fell to you.

Syllura began chanting quietly, hands taking a greenish glow as she moved them over your form. She walked counter-clockwise around the table, eyes unfocused as all attention was placed on feeling the magic in the air and in the pieces of her ritual.

As she finished her first rotation around the table, the candles flared to twice their size, and flared to three times as she finished the second rotation.

Her third rotation brought the flames off the candles- the flames leaving the wicks entirely to float above you, being directed by her hands as her eyes stared blindly forward.

She was standing at the head of the table, behind your head, as she placed her hands on either of your cheeks.

The flames rushed down into your body, setting fire to the runes before they sank into you. The incisions closed.

A beat.

Another.

Your eyes flew open and you sat straight up as you inhaled deeply and loudly for the first time in over twenty four hours.

You were alive.

The sensations and memories of the afterlife were stripped from you.

Your body was stiff, your muscles ached at every move.

Your throat was coated in something _awful,_ you realized as you coughed and swallowed and squeezed your eyes shut. When you opened them again, you saw him collapsed in front of the door, on his hands and knees as tears freely flowed from his eye.

“Julian?”


	4. The Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Julian have a conversation on the beach.

Cold. You were so cold, it felt like you had been buried in snow.

_ Had you been? _

You had the sensation of being cold, covered in  _ something  _ just before you awoke.

“Wonderful!” you heard a voice say, coming to view on your right. “A complete success, as expected!”

Her eyes flicked between you and Julian, who hadn’t moved from his position in front of the door, tears falling freely. She was smiling so widely, but her eyes betrayed a sudden feeling of unease.

“I will let you two speak!” she said, clapping as she moved toward the door. “If you would excuse me, doctor,”

Julian didn’t hear her, but he crawled forward to kneel at your feet. One last look from her mismatched eyes, and the necromancer closed the door firmly and quietly. Her receding footsteps were all you could hear until finally Julian sniffled and wiped at his eye.

“Julian?” you asked again, body aching as you adjusted so your legs hung off the side of the table, dangling in front of him. His eye hadn’t left your face since you woke up.

Slowly, you leaned down and cupped his cheeks, staring intently into it.

“Why are you crying?” you breathed.

A strangled sob and he finally looked down, brushing away your hands as he finally removed his gloves to wipe at the tears properly. His smile was wobbly as he looked back up, and you saw fear in his eye that he was trying to keep away.

“I missed you,” he finally responded. He gave a half-hearted chuckle as he wiped his eye again, more insistently.

“Julian, be careful!” you said, grabbing his hands in yours. He looked at you quizzically as you smiled and continued, “You don’t want to hurt your eye, keeping on like that. You only have the one left, after all,”

A beat of silence before he barked out a laugh. He kept laughing, noises that seemed to be colored with desperation. As if, the more he laughed, the more things would be okay.

“You… I suppose you have a point,” he finally said, laughter dissipating as he stood on shaky legs and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s important to keep the things closest to you safe, isn’t it?”

“What happened?” you asked. You thought you remembered… “Did we…  _ die?  _ Julian?”

His forced smile was replaced with a wince, and he bit his lips as his eye fixated on your clasped hands.

“We’re both alive,” he finally answered, the branded hand reaching to pick up one of yours and bring it to his lips.

“Before I woke up, were we?” you asked, your own gaze fixed on his lips.

His eye focused on that spot between yours.

“... I’m sorry,” was all he said before his tears were renewed.

_ “Julian,”  _ you exhaled. “What happened? I remember… the gallows…”

“It’s not a fun story,” he practically whimpered. “I could tell you about the time I-”

“Julian Devorak,” you took your hand from his, and once again cupped his cheeks as your eyes bored into his gaze. “You tell me what happened. Now,”

He swallowed heavily, and began to recount the past day and a half.

  
  
  


Syllura sat at her dining room table, refusing to stay anywhere near the door that kept your words with Julian a secret to the world. Her flesh fingertips traced the grain in the table as she recalled the worst encounter she had seen.

A young man, whose parents begged for him back. He woke up, pieced things together very, very quickly, and immediately threw anything he could touch. Unfortunately, one of those things was the scalpel Syllura had forgotten at his side.

It embedded itself three inches into the wall beside his father’s head.

He stormed out, parents following, all three crying.

Syllura had watched them go, head cocked to the side as she pondered what was going on in their lives, what their  _ morals  _ had told them before they brought themselves through her door.

She had shrugged and turned back inside.

It was none of her business what they thought.

Much like it was none of her business as you burst forth from the lab, Julian on your heels, desperately calling to you.

“I swear- if I had another choice- if I thought-” he pleaded.

“Yes!” you snapped back, rounding on him. “If you had  _ thought _ Julian! But that seems to be  _ far  _ from one of your strong suits!”

Syllura’s eyes flicked between you and Julian as if she were trying to choose between two scarves she had no desire to wear.

“I know!” Julian agreed. You scoffed and turned back, grasping the door handle as he stayed behind you. “I know it isn’t! Please, please let me-”

“Julian.You tampered with magic Asra and I would  _ never have even considered!”  _ she all but shouted as she stepped over the threshold.

“Did you forget that I also-” he gasped as he turned to Syllura, who’s stoic mask gave way to another cheshire grin. He fumbled with a pouch, tossed it in front of her and whispered, “Sorry, thank you, please keep quiet,”

Syllura nodded as she stood and followed Julian’s steps to the door. He was calling you down, and she snorted, closing the door on the village again.

_ “Morals,”  _ she laughed. “Nothing but trouble, right?”

She asked the question to her porcelain hand as she sat back down to count the money Julian had left, all but forgetting you and he had even been there.

  
  
  


You had no idea where you were.

You just knew that as you walked, stubbornly ignoring Julian’s pleas, the crashing of waves got louder and louder.

At some point he gave up speaking, just wringing his once again gloved hands, and vaguely whining at your back. He kept sounding like he wanted to speak, but he didn’t have the words or he knew you wouldn’t listen as you were.

The ocean was stormy and grey, much like the color of Julian’s eye.

You walked to an outcropping of stones, just outside the reach of the spray, and sat heavily on a boulder, facing the ocean as Julian paced near you. His eye flicked constantly between you, the ocean, the village, and back.

Your eyes traced the horizon, and watched the boats rocking in the surf as you processed what he had told you.

Necromancy.

Asra had always looked down on it.

_ ‘We have to have  _ morals, _ you know. Gotta draw the line in the sand somewhere,’ _

You were warring with those words, and the idea that… that Julian had participated in this ritual. For you. He didn’t seem to be the fondest of  _ innocent  _ magic, yet he wasted no time in bringing you to Yaren. To a necromancer. A necromancer he couldn’t even remember having helped.

After maybe twenty minutes of pacing and hand-wringing he finally moved in front of you, falling to his knees and grasping your hands in his.

“Please. I’m sorry, I know- I- I know that this is. Horrendous. Abominable. I don’t know  _ how _ I will  _ ever  _ make it up to you but I-  _ please,”  _ he begged, tears falling again.

_ ‘How does he still have anything left in him to cry?’  _ you vaguely thought as you looked from the horizon to his face.

“Please. I want to  _ try.  _ I made a horrible mistake, and another, and then  _ another  _ but I want to- I  _ need  _ to- please. Please let me try to-” his words were choked off by a sob that twisted your heart, despite yourself.

“Julian,” you breathed, closing your eyes. You took your hands back and looked at your wrists. The incisions, now just faded lines, stared back at you. “This isn’t… something I had ever considered. I’d spoken briefly about the implications of necromancy with Asra and decided it didn’t seem-”

Something clicked in Julian’s head and he stood back up and shouted,  _ “Asra!” _

You jumped, and looked up at his snarling face.

“What  _ about  _ Asra?”

He began pacing and looked at you.

“It occurred to me  _ I  _ am still alive.  _ I  _ didn’t need a necromancer to come back.  _ Asra’s curse  _ on me  _ prevented  _ me from dying to begin with!” he growled.  _ “Asra  _ has no right to talk about necromancy or curses or  _ anything  _ of the sort!”

You blinked. And again.

“Your curse? The one where you take people’s injuries?”

_ “Yes!”  _ he said, face no longer angry, but incredulous. “If it weren’t for Asra I wouldn’t have the curse! If it weren’t for this curse I would be dead and… and so would you! And if it weren’t for  _ me  _ to begin with, you… wouldn’t have died and been brought back and… I don’t know why I’m looking for something else to blame.”

He ceased pacing, and sank back to the sand beside you, good eye closest to your legs. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as he looked to the waves.

“It’s not Asra’s fault,” he murmured. “Not the curse’s fault. Not Syllura’s or Lucio’s or Nadia’s. It’s certainly not your fault, either. Everything that’s happened is because of  _ me, _ and I know it is. I’m sorry… I know that even if I said it a thousand times in a thousand languages it would never be enough. But it’s all I have…”

He tucked his chin between his knees and whispered, “It’s my fault, and I’m sorry,”

You looked at his sullen, resigned expression, and twisted your lips from one side to the other, looking for the right words.

“It is,” you finally settled on. “It’s your fault, at least partially. The curse, I can’t say if Asra had a reason- even if he  _ did, _ I don’t take cursing someone lightly. Maybe he thought it was more a gift than a curse… but I don’t know. We got caught because  _ I _ called for you without looking, so that part is on me. You, however,  _ definitely  _ sought out a necromancer and brought me back to life, which is _absolutely_ your fault. I never  _ did  _ figure out if you actually killed Count Lucio, though. So that may not be your fault after all,”

He snorted quietly, “Thanks for pep-talk, darling,”

You rolled your eyes and set a hand on his head, and though he jumped slightly you just began to stroke his hair.

“I’m not wrong, Julian. No matter what, you have to take responsibility for what you’ve done,” you whispered. “But you can’t blame yourself for things you _didn’t_ do. Blaming yourself for things that  _ aren’t  _ your fault just takes energy- energy you could be using to better yourself, making up for what you’ve done wrong. So yes, by all means, lament what you have done wrong, but  _ do better.  _ Like I said, you can _always_ come back, Julian,”

At that, he looked up at you, and your hand went from his hair to his cheek.

“Will you come back with me?” he whispered, reaching up and covering your hand with his own.

“Well if I say no, you came all the way here and played deity for nothing,” you said, a slight smile the only indication it was in jest.

Though you had intended it to lighten the mood, he winced and turned his head to press a kiss against your palm.

“I’ll do  _ whatever _ I have to in order to be worthy of you. I promise that,” he murmured against your knuckles. His eye, wide and full of fire, bored into yours. “I brought you back. I’m going to do everything in my power to  _ keep _ you here, and keep you happy.”

“I hope you know it will take time for me to get used to this, Julian,” you whispered. “If I had had a say, I… I don’t know what I would have chosen. I don’t think I’m mad anymore, but I am definitely… surprised, at the very least.”

“I know. And I know we’ve… well, we’ve only known each other a short time, but…” he faltered, searching for the words within your eyes. “When I woke up, I remembered that you said you loved me. And… I… I don’t know. I couldn’t let it go. I saw you laying off to the side of the gallows like a ragdoll and… I couldn’t leave you there. I don’t know why I couldn’t but I just knew I had to… do  _ something.” _

“That wasn’t a lie, you know,” you whispered, moving to kneel on the cold sand beside him. With some measure of happiness, you realized the sensation meant that you weren’t as cold as when you woke up.

“What wasn’t?” he asked, instinctually moving to wrap an arm around you, the leg closest to you falling to lay flat on the sand.

“That I love you,” you said, looking him in the eye. “I meant it before, and I mean it now, Julian. You’re right that it hasn’t been long but… I mean, it’s like a storybook, isn’t it? Brave knight rescues his beloved from the grips of death?”

Finally, with those words accompanied by your brows waggling and sly grin, Julian’s lips broke into a smile.

“I suppose you’re right. Though I think in storybooks, the brave knight and his beloved  _ attend  _ the ball, not die to start it off,” he responded, and turned your face towards his own. “I love you, too, by the way. Before, and now,”

“Well I should hope so,” you smiled, “You did bring me back to life, and because of that I don’t think I’ll be leaving you for quite some time, Mr. Devorak,”

You shifted, swinging one leg over the one he had against the sand, and kneeling over him, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his.

You heard his breath catch in his throat before he adjusted, lips shifting against your own, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other sliding to your hip.

After a moment he broke away and smiled, face flushed. Before either of you could speak, a large shiver worked its way up your spine, and he chuckled.

“I think, perhaps, we should find somewhere to stay," he suggested. "I’m not sure Yaren is the best place, however..."

“Maybe we can get a horse? Or at _least_ an idea on how far we’d need to walk to get to the next town. If we have to camp, I know how to make a fire,”

“So resourceful! I like that,” he said, bumping his nose against yours.

“Well  _ someone  _ has to be,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Of course, but still… There’s not much around here. Closest place I can think of is Niera, to the north, but that’s a day’s travel on foot…”

“I like my horse idea.”

Julian hummed and pulled you closer as another shiver passed through you. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips. He was, admittedly, very warm against you. When he pulled away, he took his arms from around you.

You whined and shifted down, resting your head on his chest as it rumbled with his chuckles. A moment and some shifting later, he was wrapping his cloak around you.

Speaking of… 

“Julian?”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t have these clothes on last I saw you…?”

“Mazelinka had taken to keeping spare clothes in her hidey hole,” he chuckled.

“Of course she did,” you laughed back.

“... I wonder how she and Pasha will be doing,” he whispered. “The Masquerade is over by now, and the Countess will have noticed our absence not long after I ran with you. Sent out search parties, probably. We can’t… we can’t go back,”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, and you pulled up to look him in the eye.

“You’re right. We can’t go back,” you said, cupping his cheeks in your hands, “But we can go forward. We can go wherever they won’t notice us, and we will keep living. We died for Vesuvia to enjoy their Masquerade again, so they know us and they know us well. But other countries? They have no idea who we are, Julian,”

You pressed your lips against his again before standing, keeping the cloak around you as you offered your hand to him.

“Wherever we go from here, we can pretend to be a normal, happy couple. And maybe one day, we’ll have gotten so good at pretending, it’ll just be who we are,” you said as he grasped your hand and rose to tower over you like usual. Your brilliant smile was echoed on his face as he nodded.

“A normal, happy couple. I think I would like that very much… but we  _ should  _ probably find a horse,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you walked back to town. He looked down at you and paused for a second to kiss you again, and when he pulled back he whispered, “I love you. So much.”

Looking back into his grey eye, you smiled wider and said, “I love you too. My knight in shining armor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is it for this fic! It was a lot of fun to write (and I debated doing more with it but!) I hope you all enjoyed it!!~


End file.
